


Stannis Baratheon And The Shelf Of Absurd Epiphanies

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Asexual Stannis, Biromantic Bisexual Davos, Davos the Bookshop Clerk, M/M, Stannis and the Shelf of Doom, modern day AU, sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>A stab of uncertainty paralyzed him, the breath  fled from his lungs so he ended balanced on precariously placed feet. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps Willas Tyrell was into some new-age dornish-style cult or something else Stannis didn't fit in, the way he had never-</em><br/><br/><em>"Pardon, do you need any help?"</em><br/> <br/><em>There was someone blocking his view to his prize. An employer of Hightower&Hightower Bookshop, looking at him with his head tilted quizzically. He was slightly built and had placed himself in a way that made it clear he knew exactly which shelf he'd been glaring at. <em></em></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  "you’ve been awkwardly inching your way towards the human sexuality section of the bookstore i work at for like fifteen minutes are you looking for something in particular or –?”au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stannis Baratheon And The Shelf Of Absurd Epiphanies

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was based on the prompt, and on my musing about Stannis possible identification as an assexual, in a modern day Westeros. I mean no offense in any way and apologize wholeheartedly if any is taken. This deals with a sexual identity crises, LGBTQ themes and there are certain moments when a character struggles with the differences between sexual and romantic attraction, so if that triggers you or leaves you uncomfortable you probably shouldn't read this.
> 
> As always, I own nothing.

This was absurd.

The dripping coat, the cooling sweat between his fingers, the whole situation. It was foolish and reckless and pointless. But he couldn't bring himself to near the shelf, the same way his mind wouldn't quieten. Loras' words echoed in his ears as if he was still talking. ' _Willas is asexual anyway, not like he's interested in getting lucky.'_

Stannis had never met Willas Tyrell. The only thing he knew about the man was that he was his Renly's future brother in law who was too busy in the Reach to come to his brother's engagement party and that he had crippled his leg in an idiotic bike race years ago. And that apparently he was part of a sexual orientation he had never heard off, a definition for something he hadn't known was shared.

And so here he was, gathering a pool of water in the wooden floor of a bookshop in a part of the city he never visited, after leaving his Renly's apartment in a hurry. At least Shireen was with Selyse this weekend, he didn't want his daughter to see him like this.

_Get a grip_ , he told himself, determinedly keeping his blurring gaze on innocuous book title. His own hesitancy angered him, the fear and the thrice-cursed seed of growing hope even more so. Usually he had no tolerance for those that did not seek out their goal without complication and delay, but he found himself a victim of his own trepidation all the same.

Straightening his back, he rallied. This had gone on long enough. Cold-numbed teeth clenched in time with his fists as he took one step, then another. A stab of uncertainty paralyzed him, the breath fled from his lungs so he ended balanced on precariously placed feet. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps Willas Tyrell was into some new-age dornish-style cult or something else Stannis didn't fit in, the way he had never--

"Pardon, do you need any help?" There was someone blocking his view to his prize. A clerk of the establishment, a chain of theHightower&Hightower Bookshops, looking at him with his head tilted quizzically. He was slightly built and had placed himself in a way that made it clear he knew which shelf he'd been glaring at.

"No, I do not." He answered curtly. The distraction had scattered his thoughts and made him aware of the raindrops cooling against his shirt. It was jarring, embarrassing to be seen tiptoeing around the sexual humanity books like an insecure, hormone-fueled teenager scared of being caught reading a magazine starring scantly clad models.

Well, Stannis was most certainly not a green teenager, and scantly clad people of any variety had never done anything for him. He glared, daring the clerk - Davos Seaworth, his tag informed him - to laugh at him. But there was no mirth on his face, only a strange sort of warmth, too close to pity for his tastes.

"That would be all." To his surprise, Davos Seaworth smiled at him. "I don't think it is." Stannis' nostrils flared, the bold faced ignorance of his dismissal jolting him. If the man noticed his costumer's anger he didn't let that stop him from coming closer to his point and being blunt about it.

"Look, you've been browsing this aisle for going on fifteen minutes and keep eying the sexual humanity shelves. I'm not making fun of you," he placated, palms out, after catching Stannis' livid glare, "There's nothing to mock anyway, but it's my job to direct you to the right books, so if you tell me what you are looking for I'll see what we have in our stock."

Stannis' jaw tightened further. There were a couple other people in the store, it was rather late after all, but he suspected none of them had spent so much time here as he had, or haunted this corridor so thoroughly. Though this nosiness was unacceptable, he couldn't entirely fault the man for doing his job.

"I'm looking for information about sexual orientations." The smile he was given was more knowing than he expected, more open than he was used to. "I think I have some books that might interest you." Seaworth turned around toward the damned shelf, leaving Stannis behind to follow in steaming silence. He kept blinking stray raindrops from his lashes, and supressing shivers the heat of the store couldn't keep away.

He startled. There was a hand over his woolen coat, warmth seeping to his skin. There was no spark, no physical reaction. He wondered why he had never noticed, but then again it was hard to notice the lack of something if you had never experienced it.

Davos Seaworth looked at him calmly, evenly. He realized with something like surprise that it wasn't it wasn't pity he was being given, it was understanding. "I've been there, you know? Nearly broke my brain when my son Allard came home with a pamphlet about sexuality and it all fit. My ex-wife thought it was hilarious." His lips quirked ruefully, " In hindsight, it seems obvious, but there's no shame in taking your time to figure things out."

Stannis meant to say that it wasn't anatomically possible for brains to break, or that he had no use for personal anecdotes in the guise of unsolicited advice. Instead he asked, "What--? That is, how do yo identify yourself?"

He refused to wince, even as his words stumbled over each other. Interaction rarely came easy to him, regardless of the effort he put into it, which decreased over the years, but it had been a long time since he had been so out of sorts. There was an order to his life, a mortar to the walls he built between himself and the world, and he had the nauseating impression he was being besieged. Right now, few things were as solid as the presence next to him and the books he refused to be cowed by.

Thankfully, he took no offense. "Oh, I'm biromantic bisexual." Davos answered easily, as thou ght the words meant something, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation.

It was absurd. He was forty-one, entirely too old to be having a sexual identity crises. Certainly too old to be scared of some books or to be talking about private matter with a shop clerk. Anyway, wouldn't he have known if he was assexual? And if he was, what did it even matter? He was a grown man, divorced and sharing joint custody of his daughter with an ex-wife he very nearly loathed. He'd never seen any romance in his future, this only made it more final. That thought left him feeling oddly bereft. He'd grown numb to the lack of companionship, but it was different to the desinterest he felt for sex, and not nearly as unwelcome.

Seaworth must have noticed the turn his thoughts had taken, because he gave another of his smiles. He wasn't a very handsome man, and it shouldn't be as reassuring as it was, but there was a frankness to this man that lend itself into being trusted. "It's not nearly as complicated as it seems." Strong fingers left a warm imprint in his arm to skitter over the spines of the books, and Stannis noticed that four joints missing in the other hand when Davos used it to lift the books.

There were three of them, bearing names like 'Sexuality in Modern Westeros', 'The Taboos Defined' and 'What You Need to Know About Your Smallclothes'. He checked some pages and passed them to Stannis. "Here, these are the best books about sexuality we have on stock. 'Sexuality in Modern Westeros' is more of a sociological study, but I found it very interesting." The way his face light up in genuine interest was reassuring, and almost charming. At least he clearly knew what he was talking about.

"The other two are by Ellaria Sand, who's an expert on this matter and really concise and witty, no over the top life advice. She's pansexual herself and I think she's popular in Dorne as a spokesman for the LGBTQ community there, knows what she's talking about. These won't steer you wrong." The books were heavy in his arms, a concrete reminder of the answer they might hold, and he relished in it. He was familiar with bearing heavy burdens, and his resolve to see this through strengthened.

Seaworth went through the process of paying and bagging the books while speaking about the authors. Usually Stannis detested small talk, but clueless in social cues as he might be, he was certain it was for his own benefit, and he had to admit it took his focus out of the anticipation crawling up his throat.

It wasn't entirely unpleasant, and he found himself sharing his opinion on Dorne (too hot and too loud) and the traditional northern mindset regarding social changes in the last decades (admirable but outdated, though not nearly as bad as those damn Ironborn).

When the bag was passed to him he lingered in from of the paying machine. He could be imagining things, but Seaworth seemed almost reluctant to relinquish the bag, and Stannis fought the urge to look away from both employee and purchase.

"Thank you, for your recommendations." He might have said more, though what he didn't know, but Seaworth cut in.

"Listen, my shift ends in half an hour. If you wanted company, there are some armchair for reading in the next room. You could take a look at the books, see if you have any questions, and I'd join you later." He looked around, checking that the other costumes were busy before leaning closer, bashful in a way he hadn't been before. For all that he had been helpful before, persistently so, there was a different tone to this conversation.

"It can be dizzying, finding out you are not alone in your differences. I know I was all the better of for the help I had, and while I don't doubt you would manage just fine on your own, you shouldn't have to."

Stannis looked at him, hoping he wasn't letting out how surprised he was. It was...unexpected. He couldn't recall one instance someone had offered their help and he hadn't brushed them off. Seaworth was right; he didn't need it. The fact that he aknawkedged it was the most surprising. A man he had only know in a matter of minutes realised that, and tried to help anyway, for no apparent personal gain, in a way no one in his family had bothered to in decades, if they ever had. Unless this was a ploy to get him to buy more books, it might actually be a genuine offer.

His first response was to turn him down, retreat to his high vantage point and thick walls and never return to this store. But his day had turned out worse than planned, from Renly's awful Tyrell-infested party to the budding of a potential personal epiphany, and so far the only unexpected inclusion showing a measure of good sense had been Davos Seaworth and his earnest advances at something resembling friendship.

"I shall be in the reading room, then. Do not be late." He jerked his head, once, before turning around and making his way thought the shelves to most secluded armchair, underneath the Foreign Languages tomes.

Breathing deeply, refusing to let his fingers shake, he opened the first book. Perhaps he'd finally get an answer to questions he'd been at war with all his life. Perhaps he wouldn't even have to do it alone. It was a strange thought, sobering and more hopeful than he was comfortable with. He tuned to the facts instead, backed by logical definitions and history and personal accounts, reliable black ink on white paper. Perhaps he'd even come to believe there was nothing wrong with himself.

Perhaps it _was_ absurd, all of it. But it also made a startling amount of sense, and had the potential for being worthwhile all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, bookmarks and comments are always welcome!


End file.
